


Only Ever 'Yes'

by MaddieWritesStucky (Madeleine_Ward)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 18:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madeleine_Ward/pseuds/MaddieWritesStucky
Summary: Night is seeping in around the edges of the horizon; the first faint stars freckling the seams where dusk will soon turn to darkness, and Steve’s mind goes to a rooftop in Brooklyn. Late summer, a warm night on the heels of an endless day; a familiar figure at his side pointing out constellations as they flickered to life in the darkening sky, and 'You take that one, Stevie' to the shooting star that had passed overhead, 'I already got everything I could wish for right here.'They’re a million miles and as many years from Brooklyn now, but those stars haven’t changed a bit.________________In which Steve and Bucky get that soft, romantic, watching-the-sun-set-over-the-ocean kind of love that they deserve.





	Only Ever 'Yes'

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Всегда один ответ – да](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25335496) by [fandom Starbucks and Evanstan 2020 (fandom_Starbucks_and_Evanstan_2020)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_Starbucks_and_Evanstan_2020/pseuds/fandom%20Starbucks%20and%20Evanstan%202020), [Magdalena_sylar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magdalena_sylar/pseuds/Magdalena_sylar)

> Stucky Bingo Square: Non-sexual Intimacy

It’s cold out here, too cold for pant legs rolled to the knee, toes in the endless back and forth of the tide. Far colder than it looked from inside their cabin set back against the dunes; the haze of sunset painting the sand in hues of warm gold.

Steve’s feet grow slowly numb as the waves throw themselves against the shore and curl around his ankles, raising gooseflesh up the exposed skin of his calves. He wraps his arms tighter around himself, as if it might ward off some of the chill. But he won’t leave.

He has no intention of moving, not even the few feet it would take to escape the water’s reach. Not when it would mean missing out on the quiet awe on Bucky’s face as he stands beside him, ankle deep in frigid water just the same; face turned toward the setting sun like he can’t remember it ever looking like _this_.

He watches Bucky watching the sun dip down below the horizon, and everything in him aches with it. He aches for the way the colors of the changing sky catch on Bucky’s skin and in his hair; for the way Bucky holds so still and breathes so quiet, like this whole thing is an illusion that might shatter with too sudden a movement.

He aches for the fact that it’s been years now, yet Bucky still seems to look at the world through the eyes of someone who can’t quite believe they’re free to see it.

He wants to touch Bucky; to pull him in close until he can feel the life in him, in the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth radiating from him. But there’s something in the way Bucky is holding himself that tells Steve to just let Bucky have this, just as they are – side by side, feet sinking deeper into the sand with every push and pull of the tide; a reminder that if you let yourself stay in one place long enough, it’ll start to feel like you belong there.

Night is seeping in around the edges of the horizon; the first faint stars freckling the seams where dusk will soon turn to darkness, and Steve’s mind goes to a rooftop in Brooklyn. Late summer, a warm night on the heels of an endless day; a familiar figure at his side pointing out constellations as they flickered to life in the darkening sky, and _You take that one, Stevie_, to the shooting star that had passed overhead, _I already got everything I could wish for right here_.

They’re a million miles and as many years from Brooklyn now, but those stars haven’t changed a bit.

His wish hasn’t changed much either, Steve thinks, as his gaze shifts from the view in front of him to the view beside him. It’s taken a lot longer to come true than he’d expected, but he can see it there in the soft creases forming at the corners of Bucky’s eyes; evidence of the joy that’s crept its way back into his life, one small moment at a time. A lifetime’s worth of asking the universe for nothing other than Bucky’s happiness had to count for something, eventually.

Steve’s eyes trace over the familiar planes of the face that has always meant _home_; the angle of Bucky’s jaw, the impossible blue of his eyes and curve of his lips the most beautiful constants in Steve’s life. The feeling he gets when he looks at Bucky, _really_ looks at him; that perpetual awe of _how are you real, how are you this_, is made all the more irreplaceable by the fact that it’s every bit Steve Rogers, and not an ounce Captain America. His feelings for Bucky were made up of careful hands tending to split lips; slow-dancing in a kitchen barely big enough to stand in, and cold nights made warmer by the arms around him.

When he looks at Bucky, _really_ looks at him, Steve remembers that the best part of himself was already there, long before the serum.

Bucky sighs, his lips turning up at the corners; head tilting slightly as if it’s Steve’s lips he can feel against his cheek and not just the warmth of his stare. It’s always anchored that tie a little deeper within Steve, the way Bucky’s always been able to sense when he’s looking at him; how he leans into it the same way he would a physical, tangible touch. It’s just another way they both know.

Steve lets his hands fall to his sides, and Bucky reaches for the one closest to him; twines their fingers together and presses his palm against Steve’s until they can feel the echo of each other’s pulse, their heartbeat in the other’s hand. Steve had thought his would be racing, right now. In all his countless imaginings of this moment, he’d thought his telltale heart would give him away; would kick wildly against his ribs with the unfathomable joy and sheer impossibility of all of this, of them.

But there’s only peace; the warm, welcome weight of _finally_ and _of course_.

His free hand goes to his pocket and he leaves it there a moment, just holding onto that small circle that means everything and changes nothing. He wonders, if he holds it long enough, whether he might be able to put enough warmth into it for the sensors on Bucky’s left hand to pick it up.

Bucky casts a sideways look at him, smiling at him in that way he does when he thinks he’s got Steve all figured out. And maybe he does, this time. Maybe he knows exactly what this is. Maybe after seventy years, he couldn’t _not_ know, but it doesn’t matter. He smiles at Steve; squeezes his hand, and says “whenever you’re ready, pal” and then turns his gaze back out to the ocean.

And then Steve is smiling too. Because he’s been ready his whole life, because for so long he’d thought he’d lost his chance.

Because he knows_, _simple and certain, that it wouldn't matter when or how or where he did this - Bucky's answer would only ever be 'yes'.

He takes a deep breath, and watches as another star blinks to life on the horizon.

He can’t feel his feet anymore, but he supposes that doesn’t matter.

One of his knees is about to get a whole lot colder, anyway.


End file.
